Stop the Clock
by Autumn L
Summary: Quatre and Relena are caught in a web of their own weaving. One day they decide to try to escape...


Stop The Clock by Autumn L. 

[Author's Note: This fic was caused by an amalgam of Shiri being on edge for an entire week, listening to Lifehouse, and the fact that I've been meaning to write a philosophical Q/Rel fic (the last didn't go as planned, but I'm satisfied for the moment _read as: there'll probably be a sequel to this_). This combination leads to the whole fic being written in one day. O_o **|** BGM for the first half of this fic would be "Quasimodo" and the rest "Simon" both by Lifehouse on the "No Name Face" album. ^_^ ]  


This fic is dedicated to my proofreader, Robbie E., who didn't believe me when I said there was potential in a Q/Rel pairing. ^_^ (Aside from the fact that this _technically_ isn't a romance...) 

Stop The Clock

* * *

  
_Mon, Jun 12, AC 199_  


"Winner-sama, we need this approved by one o'clock."  


"The ATL-59 opening needs to be confirmed today, Winner-sama."  


"This is the bill for L3-C2816's docking permits."  


"Winner-sama, the satellite agreement for L5 is due in an hour."  


Winner-sama, of the Quatre Raberba variety, tried to sit at his desk while only wanting to either collapse under it or flee the room. These last two weeks had been a strain. He must have read and signed at least two hundred construction proposals -- all of them genuinely good, of course, yet at the moment there was simply too much going on. He resisted the urge to let his knees fold as he stood -- though maybe if he did collapse they'd let him get in a breath. He slammed his fists down on his desk. "Silence!!" Everyone shut up merely from shock. "Now, in order by deadline! Thank you, gentlemen!"  


The group of paper-wavers hastily reorganized themselves -- it was amazing how efficient people could be when Winner-sama showed his anger. Midway through the line was one of his assistants who sheepishly offered a cup of now-cold coffee and the schedule for the rest of the week. Quatre waved away the cup. "Next time, just cut around with this, hmm?" He resisted the temptation to spill the coffee into the garbage can so everyone would know his frustration. Instead the blushing assistant reclaimed the cup and Quatre glanced over the schedule. He paused on Friday afternoon. Then in a blink he scribbled his signature to confirm all the arrangements for each day except Saturday. The assistant blinked and Quatre gave an odd smile that left all who witnessed it wondering how Winner-sama could look so unnaturally calm after his demeanor in the previous hour.  


  
_Thurs, Jun 15, 199 @ 9:00 a.m._  


"Minister Dorlian, the conference has been moved to eight o'clock tomorrow morning."  


"I need you to review this report from the Mars installation, Minister Dorlian."  


"Minister Dorlian, the Vice President is waiting on line three..."  


Relena was seriously considering changing her name again. If she did, no one would be asking her to sign twenty different papers a day.  


"Miss Relena?"  


The soft voice was a welcome sound after she had dealt with a dozen or so items. The change in address was also refreshing. She looked up at her secretary, who smiled. "Sorry. Even _I'm_ tired of hearing 'Minister Dorlian' twenty-four/seven. I have your schedule for tomorrow in place now that they're done rearranging meetings." She began to read off the items and Relena nodded to each. "...Twelve-thirty is the conference with the veep, two o'clock is a meeting with Mr. Quatre Winner of L4 to discuss new satellite placements, and, by some miracle, there is nothing yet planned for the rest of the day.  


Relena didn't even hear the last part. All she cared about was that name. _Quatre...Winner...Finally, someone normal!_ The phone rang and she leapt to answer it, sounding infinitely more cheerful than she had during the past hour.  


  
_Thurs, Jun 15, 199 @ 11:00 p.m._  


Quatre was glad that no one was around to see him packing. For starters, he had a suitcase, which would normally be overkill for one meeting -- he was, after all, expected to be back by Saturday afternoon, shuttles and time zones allowing. But also, no one need see what exactly he was packing, other than reams of proposals for satellite usage.  


  
_Fri, Jun 16, 199 @ 2:00 p.m. according to Ms Dorlian's watch, but in reality 1:52 p.m._  


Relena paced beside the white wrought-iron table at the small bistro where she was to conduct her last meeting. She was so grateful to be out of the series of stuffy offices from the morning that she didn't care if she was meeting with Duke Dermail. The rest of the tables in the garden-like setting were empty, dispelling her encroaching claustrophobia further. She checked her watch again. One minute later than she last looked. She increased her pace. It wasn't like Quatre to be late -- he had always been early in all other meetings she had attended with him.  


Footsteps approached across the slate path to her table and she whirled around. There was Quatre, bogged down by a briefcase and an undignifying stack of papers. She couldn't help it. She uttered a moan of disconsolation.  


"Do you really hate me that much?" Quatre pouted over the pile which he set on the table after teetering past her.  


"No...just the friends you brought with you." She took the top paper and began skimming it. To her surprise, everything was filled out already. She glanced up at Quatre, perplexed. He gave her a sly look, which confused her more -- she hadn't known him capable of such an expression.  


"I'll make you a deal, Ms Dorlian. You forget Heero Yuy for a bit, and I'll forget my fiance`, and we'll get out of here."  


Taken aback, all she could manage to sputter was, "But what about this?"  


"Already done. The satellites will be used for the same thing they've always been used for." He grinned. "You have exactly five minutes to decide." Then he glanced at his watch. "Four and a half."  


"Three. Let's go." Relena rustled up a grin.  


"Good." Before she could blink, he grabbed her hand and forced her to dash along with him down a path that led to the street rather than into the restaurant.  


Three and a half minutes later a waiter wearing a red fez exited the restaurant and collected the stack of papers and two briefcases left behind.  


  
_Fri, Jun 16, 199 @ 2:30 p.m._  


Relena Dorlian did not expect to be breaking into her own house. Well, _breaking_ wasn't exactly the word for it, but it sounded more adventurous that way. Still, she was swiftly learning that Quatre's days of terrorism weren't too far behind him. He got them into the house without anyone noticing. As they entered her room he handed her a reinforced burlap satchel. "Get some casual clothes -- I assume you have some, right? -- and stay here until I return -- ten minutes at the most." He waved then disappeared out the door.  


Relena stared after him, a bemused smile on her face. She would expect this type of behavior from that Duo Maxwell guy. If she didn't know better, she would have thought he had cut and bleached his hair. Shaking off the image of a braidless Duo, she set about finding her dusty non-formal clothing.  


Exactly nine and a half minutes later Relena and Quatre met again, both surprised by what they saw -- she stood on the corner on the far side of the house out of sight from those within, and he was pulling up on a black motorcycle. He took off his helmet and met her eyes, both staring at the other. Then they burst out laughing. "Black leather -- denim jeans and a red midriff -- no one will ever suspect us to be Winner and Dorlian!" Quatre continued laughing as he climbed off the bike and handed a second helmet to her, then took her bag and secured it inside a compartment behind the seat.  


"Quatre, where in the world did you get that?" She swept his leather clad form from boots to eagle-embossed jacket with a mock-appraising eye.  


"As I said, who would expect Quatre Raberba Winner to wear such uncomfortable garb?" He folded his arms in as if feeling confined, then grinned. "It's worth it if no one notices. And you?"  


She shrugged. "Jeans are the best I can do. The shirt was a gift from Hilde, and she knew very well that I would never wear it."  


"And those?"  


She glanced down at the brown leather boots he pointed to. "Gift from Miss Noin."  


"I suspected as much."  


They donned the helmets then climbed onto the bike. Relena tentatively put her arms around him. "Um..." She blushed.  


"Don't worry. You should hold on tight anyway -- I haven't driven one of these in a while."  


"Um."  


He laughed. "I'm joking. We're not us right now, remember? But please hold on, I can't afford to lose you."  


This time she chuckled as she did as he said.  


"If you happen to get cold I have another jacket."  


"Black leather?"  


"You bet. Ready to go?"  


"Where are we going, anyway?"  


"You'll see."  


She just knew he had on another of those sly grins that he had adopted for this performance. He revved the engine and soon they were speeding away from the unsuspecting house on Sanc Kingdom Lane.  


  
_Sat, Jun 17, 199 @ 1:30 p.m._  


_Amazing,_ Relena mused to herself as the wind tore her hair back continuously during their trip down a dusty highway -- a dusty highway in Arizona, North America. What she was amazed at happened to be the lengths which Quatre was capable of. He had gotten them aboard a high-speed carrier -- and off -- without anyone noticing, again, and now here they were, half a world away from where they had been less than twenty-four hours ago, and no one even knew about it. Come to think of it, perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that he could manage the stunt -- having been a Preventer on and off for the past four years, he probably had to deal with people doing that exact thing -- so he would know how _they_ did it, and, more importantly, how to _not_ be caught.  


The desert they zipped through now was proof why Relena wasn't overly fond of summer, so she didn't need the extra jacket. Quatre on the other hand didn't seem to be bothered by the heat at all. _A desert prince,_ she reminded herself. She sat up a teensy bit higher to let the wind cool her face, grateful that she didn't have to worry about appearances for once. Quatre obviously wouldn't care if her hair was a complete mess -- unlike anyone she would have had a meeting with today. She thought about this for a moment, and briefly her hold on Quatre tightened as she regretted everything that might have gone awry -- but then she loosened up before he noticed, and flung her regret to the wind. She wasn't Minister Dorlian now, so why should she worry?  


Quatre had, however, felt the squeeze. He couldn't really blame her, since he was gripping the handlebars harder than necessary -- his hands were starting to hurt, so he knew he would have to stop soon to take a break. His mind was on a certain someone who would be worried sick about him if he didn't send word soon. But, he wasn't Quatre Winner just then, so maybe he should lose his concern...  


A sign advertising a rest stop came up, and Quatre sighed with relief. Stopping in the middle of nowhere was not appealing. He slowed as the exit came into sight. It coursed down an incline and curved toward a small alcove below the highway where a few pale buildings huddled. A cheap, four-room motel, a gas station, and a fast food restaurant greeted them. "Ah, what erosion will do to the _Crown Plaza_ and _Bella Notte,"_ Quatre quipped, citing two of the more expensive places he had visited. He kicked down the brake then climbed off, removing his helmet.  


Relena tried to get her hair into some semblance of order, turning to deposit her helmet on the bike but stopped to laugh at the equal mess of mashed-down bangs that graced Quatre's head. He hastily tried to fix them, then shrugged it off. He smoothed them aside enough to be able to see then started toward the restaurant.  


Relena caught his arm. "Let's not stay too long, just in case..."  


"Looking like this??" He gestured at himself, the dust-covered pants and demolished hair, and gave her an incredulous look.  


"You never know..." she began tentatively, then sighed. "I guess you're right." All the same, she was wondering if they should have kept their helmets on...  


The dreary-eyed cashier barely lifted his head when they entered. "Restrooms?" Quatre inquired. The cashier pointed to his right. They walked to the door beside the counter. The sign read 'RE TR OM '. Quatre held the door open and then gaped -- two stalls, and no 'Men's/Women's' sign. He took an offended step back. "Oh, my..." His face colored slightly. "Um, ladies first." He took another step back, allowing Relena to enter. He waited patiently and didn't notice the odd look the cashier was giving him.  


  
_Sat, Jun 17, 199 @ 4:30 p.m. Lunar Time -- three hours ahead of the non-Winner/Dorlian_

Sally Po came rushing into Chang Wufei's office waving a report. "Whatever you're doing, drop it. Prime Minister Dorlian and Quatre Winner have gone missing."  


"Both at two different locations?" Wufei questioned, preparing to jump for the necessary search options.  


"No. They were having a meeting at Sanc. Apparently they got their work done _then_ completely disappeared."  


He scowled. "Winner should have been able to handle any problem."  


"Yes, I trusted in that. But...there hasn't been word in twenty-four hours."  


Wufei leapt from his seat.  


  
_Sun, Jun 18, 199 @ 8:00 a.m. MST_  


"I suppose it would be something one would have to get used to," Relena yawned, referring to the hideously uncomfortable beds in the motel. She stretched then reclaimed her helmet from Quatre.  


"Agreed." He made an exaggerated stretch, arching his back, then snatched up his helmet. "All right, let's get going!"  


"Now where to?"  


"Um, nowhere specific in mind." He shrugged. "Anywhere that isn't a stuffy office full of papers being shoved in one's face..."  


Relena nodded her agreement, and they set out for the highway.  


  
_Mon, Jun 19, 199 @ 9:02 a.m. -- East on Highway 53_  


"Gonna be a long trip, kid. Next stop's halfway through the state." The truck driver looked across his cab at the nondescript young man who was too old to be called 'kid', and who was also very much distracted by some kind of pocket radio he had held to one ear. He had on a uniform that looked like it belonged in outer space, one shoulder marked by a triangular logo.  


The driver sighed and put his attention back on the cliff road he was following. _I hate tight turns..._  


  
_Mon, Jun 19, 199 @ 9:03 a.m. -- West on Highway 53_  


"I hate these cliff roads!" Relena complained, knowing Quatre might not hear her due to the wind but wanting to speak her nervousness away. "That wall always seems too close!"  


"We're on the opposite side," he managed, "And we're not that high up anyway..." He went back to paying attention to driving lest she become even more nervous.  


Something piqued at the back of his mind very suddenly, causing him to swerve just as a truck horn blared around the bend.  
  
_Mon, Jun 19, 199 @ 12:21 p.m. Lunar Time_  


Wufei's office was becoming a source of claustrophobia as two more people took up residence there for the duration it took him to explain the situation. One he had been expecting all along, the other was a surprise. He managed an amused expression as he regarded the latter. "Yuy, I'm disappointed. You haven't found them yet?"  


Heero glared off the sarcasm. "Your people haven't done any better. Your training must be slipping."  


Wufei's regular serious-situation scowl returned. "Touche`. Any ideas?"  


"Earth Sphere is a damned big place to search," piped up their companion.  


"I see you're taking this well, Bloom."  


Trowa carefully kept his face still. Wufei refused to use the Barton name after the Mariemeia incident, yet something about his sister's name bothered him. And, all the same, this wasn't the time to raise that particular issue. "Find me a lead, Chang, or else you'll see how well I _really_ don't take this." He turned to storm out of the room.  


Wufei glanced at Heero then said, "Suit up, boys, I've got a mission for you."  


  
_Mon Jun 19, 199 @ 9:21 a.m. MST_  


"Quatre? Quatre! QUATRE!!" Relena floundered haphazardly toward the black-clad form lying too far away through a patch of thin scrub. They had missed the truck but had been forced off the road and down the relatively even incline of the lower cliff. Quatre seemed to be handling it fine until the front wheel was introduced to a rock just large enough to give them trouble -- the bike stopped but they didn't. As she found herself soaring, a random memory from her abandoned fifth-grade acrobatics class surfaced, causing a reflex of tuck and roll. It absorbed some of the shock when she landed, but her neck and back ached something awful. A bizarre thing to recall, but she supposed that kind of instinct kicked in when one was faced with such a situation. She briefly wondered if that's how Heero managed all the feats he had performed. Then she realized that maybe Quatre hadn't been as lucky.  


And she was right.  


"QUATRE!!" Her voice was getting hoarse. At last she reached him and gathered enough strength to remove his helmet -- it may have saved his skull but she didn't want to risk a chance of saving him before the ambulance arrived.  


Ambulance? They weren't in a city, they were in the middle of nowhere!!  


She forced herself to calm down. She simply couldn't panic. Yet doubts rose when she saw the trickle of blood down the side of his head that the helmet had hidden from view. _Oh, God. This was the stupidest thing we've ever done. For two reckless people, we should have known better!_  


  
_Mon, Jun 19, 199 @ 12:31 p.m. Lunar Time_  


"We have to wait for Zechs?!" Trowa had meant for the comment to be flat but failed miserably.  


Heero gazed straight ahead out the docking bay window. "The two best bloodhounds for tracking down Relena."  


Trowa turned and _stared_ at him. His expression was one that could be equated with the saying, _What the F*?_ Finally he croaked, "Humor? Was that humor or something?" Then he whirled on his heel, rubbing his left temple. "This is getting to be too much."  


Heero shifted slightly to regard him. "Relax. For someone so close to Quatre you need to pay more attention."  


"What do you mean?"  


Heero turned back to the window.  


Trowa was instantly in front of him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. "Heero, what are you talking about?"  


The other calmly freed himself. "We should trust Quatre."  


  
_Mon Jun 19, 199 @ 9:31 a.m. MST_  


She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry...  


The thing that was scaring her to tears was not the fact that Quatre wasn't responding, but that she had become so coddled by the surroundings of her office. She didn't have to worry about being stranded anywhere. There was always someone shoving a paper in her face, rather than being surrounded by miles and miles of miles and miles. If she ever got a paper cut, there were bandaids in the top left drawer of her desk. And now here she was, unable to do a damn thing to help her partner in crime. They should never have left...Skip out for the afternoon maybe, hide out in a quiet restaurant somewhere until evening maybe, but not this...  


She wondered if Quatre would have felt the same way had _she_ been the one lying possibly dead on the ground...  


  
_Mon Jun 19, 199 p.m. Lunar Time_  


"Chang, did you lose my sister again?"  


Wufei scowled at the tall figure with long blond hair who stood blocking the doorway. "The two most important pacifists of our time are missing, and you and Yuy are too calm."  


"And what are you doing?"  


"Trying to coordinate every agent scattered across the four corners of the earth, and every radii in between."  


"Heero informed me that Quatre can handle a possible situation. I trust him."  


_"Possible?_ Winner would have found a way to contact us."  


"Then pick a random coordinate and we'll go there."  


"Huh?"  


Zechs crossed his arms. "Me, Yuy, Barton. We're still Preventers, you know."  


Wufei's scowl deepened. "That was the whole idea of you being here, but Yuy has his 'trust Quatre' campaign going." He tugged a sheet of paper from a crumpled mess beside the computer. "Southwest of North America. I can't get ahold of my agent there. Maybe you'll find him while Winner closes this case." He smiled mock-pleasantly, and added quietly, "You've become too coddled by the times, Zechs."  


"I would be worried if you had, also."  


  
_Mon, Jun 19, 199 @ 9:39 a.m. MST_  


_Sunburn, we're going to get sunburn._ She busied herself with worrying about trivial things._Oh, and that will look great at the next meeting. I think it's at two o'clock..._ She went to check her watch then remembered she didn't have one at the moment, aside from the fact that her hands were currently pinned beneath Quatre's head, clumsily trying to support him as she had seen Lady Une do to help Mariemeia -- not that she expected it to do much good.  


"Quatre, you have wake up. Heero can't come save us -- he only saves me, you know. You aren't part of the 'Save the naive pacifist' deal...You weren't naive..." She caught herself before she continued on the train of thought. He was a pacifist who understood war from the get-go; she had taken longer to learn.  


"You have to wake up," she whispered. "I can't leave you so Heero can find me, and then we'll return for you. I can't do that." She brushed one hand along his perspiring face, vainly trying to wipe away the dried blood. How long had they been there, how long would it be until someone found them? Or worse?  


Why couldn't she be stronger than this?  


Facing all the wars and the most hateful world leaders, and having guns pointed at her constantly, and she couldn't manage to stay calm now. And if it had only been a matter of a few minutes? Was her fear only making time pass quickly? Perhaps the time to panic would be when the sun began to set...  


Quatre stirred. She was sure he had moved. She gazed down anxiously, waiting for his eyes to open. "Quatre..?"  


He shifted, winced, then went still again. After a tense breath he opened his eyes. "Rel...len...na? A-Are you...okay?"  


She would have laughed had she not been so weak with relief. "You're worse off than me."  


"I'm...sorry..." His voice was as parched as the surrounding sand.  


"Easy. Don't worry."  


It was several more moments before Quatre could sit up on his own, and even more until he could stand with some help -- nothing was broken but he could confirm several nasty bruises without even looking. Relena supported him all the way to the motorcycle where they rested for another five minutes before he attempted to pick it up and see if it would run.  


"Are you sure this is a good idea? Maybe we should wait for..."  


"I think I can do it. Just give me about ten minutes or so." He grinned although he closed one eye against the sunlight, and seemed to be grimacing instead. "I'm a gundam pilot. I'm more durable than that."  


Relena silently agreed, and silently gave thanks, and patiently waited.  


  
_Mon, Jun 19, 199 @ 9:58 p.m. PST_  


_Ocean spray is so nice after the dry desert heat,_ a refreshed and blue-sundress-clad Relena thought as she let her bare feet sink into the damp sea-washed sand; it had such a profoundly different texture from the sun-baked type. She lifted her face to the evening breeze then glanced over at Quatre. He had gladly traded his black leather for loose chinos and -- over a gray teeshirt -- a navy sweatshirt. He gazed out across the ocean, mixed emotions roiling through his eyes as surely as the waves.  


"It wasn't your fault," she assured softly, and for the hundredth time since they'd ducked out of the small hospital they had stopped at to bandage up their cuts. "You couldn't have know about the shipping schedule."  


"I should have." He smiled bitterly. "Winner-sama is supposed to know everything, after all."  


She fell silent, drawing her knees up and hugging her arms around them. She mumbled, "So is Minister Dorlian..."  


He glanced over at her, then sighed. "And that's what this whole misadventure was about. Trying to get away from who we are. But there's no escaping destiny." His attention returned to the sea as he smiled wistfully and murmured, "I of all people should have known that."  


There was a long silence that Relena was hesitant to break. "Tell me, Quatre, what it means to be you."  


"Hmm?" He gave her a puzzled look.  


"Do you remember when I said I wanted to know what gave people the urge to fight? I think I have it mostly figured out by now, but I'd like to know why you fought if you hated it...If you don't mind me asking."  


"Not at all. I fought because it was all I could think of to do. At the time, words didn't seem to do any good, I saw that from my father. He spoke Pacifism every breath of his life, but he was lacking something. It's the same thing that you _do_ have."  


She looked at him with surprise. "And what would that be?"  


He smiled sheepishly. "I haven't quite figured it out exactly. I don't think I have it, for all my sway in the colonies." He turned back to the ocean. "Although I think maybe it was your determination during One-nine-five. You grew and what you said began to make sense to people." He chuckled. "You had a better effect than the gundams ever did."  


She swallowed her surprise so she could speak, "But I only found that path because of Heero -- because of the gundams." She had tried to catch herself and ended up blushing.  


Again he chuckled. "That's all right. We each took a turn holding Heero together for you, anyway, so it evens out." He smiled to show that he hadn't been offended.  


"We make good _team,"_ she offered, then returned the smile.  


  
_Tues, Jun 20, 199 @ 6:30 p.m. Lunar Time_  


"So, in effect, Quatre Winner kidnapped Minister Dorlian..."  


"Are we going to charge him for that?"  


"Don't think so, Duo."  


"And I left Mars for this..."  


"I told you not to worry."  


...*Fume, Fume*...  


"OUT! Get out, people!" Wufei reached his limit of useless babble and shoved everyone out of his office: Sally, Duo, Zechs, Heero, and Trowa. That left one person, whom he rounded on and pointed a finger at with a vengeance. "And you, Winner--! That was indescribably stupid of you! Do you know how many riots this stunt could have caused? Or how many people would have jumped at the opportunity to see you and Ms Dorlian disappear for good?"  


"I'll sleep better while pondering that one," Quatre responded dryly.  


Wufei fairly crossed his eyes staring at him. "Quatre, have you been hanging out with Maxwell again?"  


The blond choked back a laugh as he realized just how badly Wufei had been upset if he was mixing up name addressing. "I assure you that I have not. No time." Again he had to hold in his mirth but failed this time.  


"This isn't funny," Wufei groused. He dropped down on his chair, which creaked in protest, then started shuffling through the nearest stack of papers.  


With a completely straight face Quatre said, "Wufei, I think you need a vacation."  


  


_End~_

* * *

  
(c) 2001-2002 Autumn Loweck. This work may not be copied, distributed, or reprinted without the author's permission. Characters of Quatre, Relena, Heero, Sally, Wufei, Trowa, Zechs, Mariemeia, Une, Duo, and Duke Dermail belong to the creators of the GundamWing series, Sotsu Agency, Sunrise, Bandai, and whoever else in Japan involved in this most cool anime.  



End file.
